A Matter of Perspective
by supreme queen1106
Summary: Charles and Erik have parted ways, each with their own acolytes. Charles struggles to deal with the separation, often lapsing into recollections of the past; Erik, on the other hand, uses his independence to further his goal for a mutant utopia. A clashing of the forces is inevitable. Warning: may contain corporal punishment, such as spanking, and mature themes. Read at own risk.
**A/N: Happy Easter, everyone!**

… **. Well. Easter Monday.  
Same difference xD. Hope you all enjoyed it, and are/have been guzzling on chocolatey goodness! Just so all of you know, this story is susceptible to the incorporation of corporal punishment, among which includes spanking (and not just of little children, either). I realise that this might be awkward/embarrassing/repulsive for you, which is why I have decided to warn you in advance. If you are uncomfortable with that, please, turn back now. It is not certain that it will contain spanking, however the probability exists, so I ask that you not be surprised if it does. It will also deal with dark themes, such as self-harm, mutilation, suicide, the like. This story, of course, is intended for a mature audience. If you are someone under the age of the rating, then know that you are reading at your own risk. This story will very often alternate between past and present, but to avoid confusion, I will give indications as to when it is being told. This story will also contain OCs, but I promise that I will add existing characters and place more focus on them. Chapters will get much longer than this in the future.**

 **I think that just about covers it xD. I hope you enjoy reading this rather unconventional prelude~!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Long-prologue**

The Headmaster's office was darkened to the point of obscurity that night, and the room was plagued by a deathly silence. This in itself was not odd- indeed, the bibliophile's office was often plunged in long periods of quiescence- however, there was something eerie, something that made the hairs on the nape of the intruder's neck prickle with uneasiness as he gently stepped inside. His sharpened eyes were able to detect the form of the slumped-over Professor, whose uncombed, messy mop of hair was the first thing to greet the uninvited guest. A more thorough scope of the man's body proved that he was asleep, his arms posed atop the paper-covered desk, encasing his unmoving head as his face tilted slightly to the side, out of the intruder's line of sight.

A soft sigh escaped the conscious man's lips as he airily trudged forth, making his way to the slumbering figure's side. He delicately placed large hands on the Professor's shoulders, giving them a genteel shake, repeating the action every-so-often once no reaction was evoked on the Headmaster's part.

"Charles, wake up."

A particularly jerky shake of the shoulder made the previously slumbering man flinch slightly, effectively rousing him.

The man named Charles raised his head in a laggard-like fashion, his unseeing eyes blinking blankly at the man who'd dared wake him.

It took a moment, but when the Professor managed to discern who stood before him, his groggy voice uttered, "Hank...?"

"Professor, are you alright?" whispered the concerned young man.

"I'm fine, fine," spoke the unconvincing voice of the normally manipulative and cunning telepath, "I was just documenting our recent progress with the recruitment, and... well..."

At the barely discernible crease of the man's eyebrows, Hank released another sigh, this one of relief, and elaborated, "Professor, you fell asleep."

Charles gave another blink of his eyes, before turning his face in the direction of his loitered desktop, "So I see..."

"I thought it best to wake you," Hank informed duly, his eyes locked on the Professor, who was reaffirming his posture, "I figured you might be a bit more comfortable in bed- I was also worried that you'd cramp your neck- it wasn't in the best of positions."

"Oh." came the lively reaction from Charles, his state of confusion growing ever-more evident to the observant scientist.

Said scientist's keen eyes watched like a hawk as the Professor began rearranging his papers in the dark, clearly unable to see further than his elbows.

"Professor," Hank recommenced, inching closer to the confounded and befuddled man, "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Henry, I'm perfectly fine. I just- can't seem to find one of those- one of those blasted-"

At the Professor's slightly reckless arm-waving, Hank deemed it his cue to intervene, "Allow me, Professor."

He reached forth to click Charles' lamp on, and no sooner than he had than the Professor recoiled.

"Ah- bloody hell, that's bright! Charles' exclamation was accompanied by a shielding motion, and his head unintentionally appeared to droop.

Hank frowned slightly at Charles' reaction, "Perhaps you ought to go to bed, Charles."

"What?" Charles screwed his eyes up, still pained by the luminous source of light positioned right beside him, "No, no- I can't, I have work to do, and I'm afraid I simply have to finish this tonight- I'm already behind, I can't afford to waste any more time."

"Don't worry about the papers, Professor- I'll deal with them myself. You need to get some sleep."

Charles appeared contemplative for the briefest of moments, before answering tentatively, "I- I really don't know, Henry- I wouldn't want to burden you with this-"

"It would be no trouble," Hank assured immediately, "I think you and I both know that I am more than qualified to file documents, sir."  
"It's not that I doubt your capabilities, Hank," Charles leaned forward, clearly trying to find a way to excuse himself for his apparent offence, "I merely think that this is definitely not something with which you ought to concern yourself- it is of litt- little-oh," Charles was cut off by a yawn, which lasted a good ten seconds, before continuing, "consequence, that's all."

"If it is of so little consequence, then why can it not wait until tomorrow? Surely you would be better suited to work once your mind has been at rest..."

"True, but... I mean... I-" another yawn interrupted Charles, and the Professor looked more exhausted than ever by the time it'd subsided. He blinked, his eyes boring into the scientist's, "You must be tired, Hank."

Hank would have been surprised by Charles' sudden change of subject had it not been for the fact that he knew of Charles' terrible coping of fatigue.

"Not really, sir- I had myself a little siesta this afternoon..."

A lie, of course, but anything to get the Professor to give in.

"Even so, this is tiring work..."

"All the more reason for you to turn in, then." Hank gave Charles a small smile.

Charles didn't return it; indeed, he appeared hesitant.

"I don't know, Hank..."

"I can take care of things, Charles; trust me. You just... go and get some rest, alright? Doctor's orders."

A semblance of a smile toyed with the Professor's lips, "Doctor's orders, eh? How ever could I argue with that?"

Hank remained silent, expecting Charles' concession.

Charles merely regarded the young scientist/doctor under lidded eyes.

Then, a sigh, "Alright then. I give up; you win. Here," he dumped before Hank all the stacks of documents within reach, "seeing as you're so eager to help, you ought to know that each of these is labelled, so you should have no problem filing them in the appropriate cabinets, which you will find right next to the- hallo, what's this?" spotting something of interest, Charles drew an open document closer to his person, scrutinised it for a moment, before letting loose a dispirited groan, "Oh no. Oh no, no, no."

"Charles...?"

Charles' eyes flickered up to meet Hank's inquisitively worried gaze, "I mislabelled this one- this belongs in finances and monetary budgets, not potential recruits... the two bare little to no relation.. how could I have overlooked something like that?" Charles' face dawned over in realisation as he uttered, "Oh no."

"What? What is it?"

"This may not be the only one," Charles muttered, as if the world was coming to an abrupt end, "There could be more, more of which I don't know about- this is bad. I have to stay, I have to- to work, to continue, I have to relabel them all again, to start from scratch- I- I- Oh, I can't believe I've done this! If I was able to forego labelling them all, then I could just as easily have mislabelled..." Charles trailed off. His eyes appeared to widen, and Hank deemed it fit to stop him before he could start the inevitable tirade that was sure to follow.

"Alright, professor, take it easy. I'll give them a quick look over and make sure everything's in order-"

"Henry-"

"Professor," Hank took a step forth, positioning a large hand on Charles' shoulder, his gaze penetrating the somewhat older man as he applied a little pressure on his shorter frame, "You're tired. You're extenuated. You're overworked, and you aren't thinking clearly. You _need_ to rest."

Charles' eyes, although betrayed by the dark rings beneath them, expressed an unrelenting resistance.

Hank heaved a sigh, and was just about to conjure the appropriate arguments to win him over when, to his immense surprise, Charles conceded.

"... I suppose you're right then." the yielding sigh was barely audible, but Hank let his relief show on his face.

"Thank-you." he uttered with utmost sincerity, and Charles waved off his gratitude, nodding rather dismissively and pushing himself up, his chair scraping against the wooden floor as he gave a slight wobble. Hank rushed to his aid immediately, and helped steady the Headmaster, who righted his position at once.

He patted Hank's arm in thanks, before tentatively turning to him, pausing, and then questioning, "Are you absolutely certain you want to stay up in my stead...?"

The look on Hank's face was answer enough.

"Right." inclining his head, Charles made his way passed the desk and over to the door. Once there, he cocked his head back to look at Hank, whose lips began thinning with impatience. Sighing and shaking his head in mild bemusement, the Headmaster opened the door and left the scientist/doctor of the team in solitude.

… Or so Hank had thought, for just then the door opened again and Charles' face popped through the gap, "I almost forgot, Henry, some of the files are colour-coded!"

Hank blinked, "Colour-coded...?"

"Yes, but- not all. You have to be sure to separate them from the non-colour-coded ones, because they're a bit.. different. Prioritised, that is. The colour-coding is a bit, um... well, it's a way to help remember what is what when I get a bit muddled up, what's important at present. I realise it's, a... an unusual system, to say the least, but, well... it helps sometimes."

Hank hastened to assure the Professor of his understanding and competence, "Duly noted. Anything else?"

Charles seemed to ponder over it for a moment, before shaking his head in the negative, "No, nothing that I can think of. Goodnight, Henry."

"Goodnight, Professor. Rest well." Hank's eyes flickered back down to the files before him.

"I will." he began to close the door before stopping mid-way, popping his head through again to say, "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't."

Charles retreated from behind the door, before needlessly reminding, "And don't forget to turn off the light when you're done!"

Releasing a massive sigh of exasperation, Hank glanced up, exclaiming, "Charles!"

"Right. Sorry. Goodnight, Hank."

" _Goodnight_." Hank bade once more, his eyes locked on the door in case the workaholic decided to come slinking back.

He didn't.

Shoulders sagging, Hank's eyes dragged down to the work he had volunteered to undertake. They met with the first file within reach, and with an air of resignation, Hank brought it closer to his person. He gazed at it for a good long moment, before releasing another world-weary sigh, and setting off about his business. He classed this and classed that, and once the inevitable exhaustion began creeping out from the recesses of his brilliant mind, he gave himself the benefit of a break, opting to halt his current classing pattern and leaf through the file he had in hand, too distracted to take into account the apparent breach of confidentiality he was in the process of committing.

At first letting its contents seep into his mind with disinterest, Hank progressively began to immerse himself in them. The file in possession was colour-coded red, and an image rested just above a paragraph of jumbled, disorganised text, more like notes than anything concrete (Hank found it odd that this was Charles' work, as it was far from the meticulousness expected of him)- a photograph of a young adolescent, younger than anyone dwelling within the household and yet most definitely one of the students. Clear blue eyes, short blond hair, even shorter than they were now, rather petulant expression, strong jawline.

Upon closer inspection, Hank deduced that it could only be a younger Alex.

Intrigued, Hank leaned forward in his seat, forcing his tiredness at bay, and began scanning the document with piqued interest.

It was not five minutes later that he regretted ever looking at it.

x.X.x.X.x

Giving a lethargic droop of the eyes, Charles forced himself up the next morning at an early hour. It was worth mentioning that Charles was not by any means a 'morning person', so this proved an unprecedented achievement. He hauled himself down the winding staircase and soon happened upon the kitchen, dragging his feet slightly before stopping short at the doorway.

"Sean?"

The petitioned one turned to face Charles, glass of juice in hand.

Eyebrows creasing, Charles made his way towards him, "What are you doing up so early?"

Sean blinked once, then raised his glass of juice, "Breakfast."

Soaking in the sight of the orange liquid, Charles' facial expression morphed from confusion to sympathy.

He should have known.

Stupid thing to ask.

A knowing huff of air escaped his lips as he empathetically queried, "Couldn't sleep either, could you?"

Sean merely glanced back down at his glass in response, hanging his head as he placed it upon the circular kitchen table in the centre, directly above a plate of toast, before seating himself in silence.

Biting back a sigh of sadness, Charles made to open the fridge before Sean piped up, so softly that Charles had to strain his ears to hear, "One month."

Charles didn't glance back as the words left his mouth, "I know."

Sean, however, did, "One month since they've left, and we still haven't managed to pull ourselves together," he turned back to his plate, "We're hopeless."

Closing the fridge, Charles contested, "We aren't hopeless, Sean. We just need a little time to adjust."

"It's been _a month_."

"... I know."

Sean didn't say anything else.

Charles didn't try to engage in conversation.

They ate in silence.

After what seemed to be but a few minutes later, Sean stood upright to clear his plate and half-emptied glass away, his chair giving an ear-splitting screech, when Alex entered, his entire face pulled into a scowl.

Now Alex, unlike Sean and Charles, _was_ a morning person. But all three within the room understood that it was not due to his natural attraction to daybreak that he was up at such an hour.

He bumped right into Sean as he walked him by, in turn making the taller individual bump into the isle. Sean, however, ignored it and stalked past him, and Alex gave an aggressive wrench once the handle of the fridge was within reach.

Charles did not deign to admonish him.

He did not so much as make eye-contact with his charge, but instead finished his own breakfast of coffee and toast, before following Sean's lead and clearing the table. As he walked by Alex, he contemplated whether or not he should say anything, before deciding against such a course of action. He merely regarded the youth with a regretful expression before leaving him to his thoughts (of which, even without telepathy, he was certain were dark). He couldn't help but to think of Alex's sudden change in character- everyone, every _thing_ , had changed since Cuba, but no one quite like Alex. Charles mulled over Alex's development over the past few months pre-Cuba; he'd gone from a sullen, spiteful rebel with intense trust and insecurity issues, to a confident, funny, and daring young man. That, in only a few months. All thanks to him and Erik.

 _Erik._

Charles closed his eyes and inhaled a whiff of air.

No, don't think about it. Don't think about _him_.

It was all over, now.

Erik had chosen his side.

He'd chosen extremity over peace.

And he'd taken Raven with him.

Charles shook his head. _No_ , he thought, _he hadn't taken Raven with him_. She'd gone on her own volition; she had chosen to go. She, too, had chosen extremity over peace.

She had chosen Erik over him.

Charles sucked in a breath, ridding himself of all thoughts of his sister and of Erik.

 _It will do no good to dwell on them now_.

Why think of them, when they had caused them all so much grief and heart-ache? When they had turned their backs on peace, on them, as Angel had so long ago? When they had caused Alex to revert to his old self again, Sean to lose whatever flicker of hope had existed in those empty eyes, Hank to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, to assume de facto leadership, and driven Charles to emotional _ruin_?

Why think of them at all?

Distraught, Charles chased the thought away. It was no good. They were gone, and the X-Men would continue without them. They had been through so much already. Recruitment had already begun, as had enrollment. They would prevail.

They would succeed.

They _had_ to.

 **A/N: Lame chapter/ending-of-beginning is lame xD. I hope you still managed to enjoy it, and that it was not a complete waste of your time. Until next time~!**


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